


Dark Choices

by DD_Dreamer



Category: Rurouni Kenshin
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark, F/M, Out of Character, Spoilers, Suspense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 15:37:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15643761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DD_Dreamer/pseuds/DD_Dreamer
Summary: The Kamiya dojo harbors a dark secret that will threaten everyone and everything Kaoru holds dear to her. She must learn to cope with everything as a bloody past catches up to her with the stir of the Kyoto's events. Kaoru must choose her family ties or her love interest.





	1. Preface

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, there are a lot of different versions for Kaoru's past, and before you hit the back button, let me explain why and how this story is different. Well, for one, I decided to tie in the characters' relationships, make it as faith brought them together. Two, after watching Jineh and Kenshin demonstrate what they can do with their ki, I decided to explore more with the different possibilities of ki such as it being able to manifest ki to physical form. This will be better explained in Chapter 2. And three, I feel that Kaoru's role in RK isn't displayed to it's full potential. The RK story begins with her telling how Kenshin becomes a permanent member of the Kamiya dojo but I feel she eventually becomes overshadowed by all the other characters in some sort of aspect, whether it's her fighting ability, cooking, or her naivety. I want to create a story where she develops as a character. In other words, I want her to have a story. So, here it is. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I have fun writing it.

**_Preface_ **

* * *

Everything came down to this moment.

I stared at the swordsman whose hair rivaled the burning flames behind him. His sword was unsheathed and remained limp at his side.

"Who are you?" he asked me calmly. His sharp violet eyes that could turn golden in a second assessed me.

"You should know me," I answered back just as placidly, but I wasn't sure if he could hear me through the black binding that I wrapped loosely around my face to conceal my identity from him.

He stepped toward me, his sandaled feet barely making a sound compared to the burning fire on the wooden vessel.

The wind picked up and my fingers tightened on the metal fans at my sides in warning.

He halted and tilted his head. "I do feel like I know you."

Instantly, my body went rigid. I took note that he said "I" instead of "unworthy." The darker side of him was unleashed.

As if to confirm my observation, he raised his head at an angle that the fires around him reflected eerily back in his golden eyes. I couldn't stop the gasp that left me from his overwhelming stare.

"Stop playing with me and reveal who you are." His words sliced through the air like the sharp edge of a blade.

I wanted to prolong this moment, my final reunion with Kenshin while Master Shishio completed his dark plans. But another part me wanted to finally surrender to him. Didn't he suffer enough?

 _"You have to do this, Kaoru. You have to do this for us, for me and Tsubame. For family."_ Yumi's words, rang in my mind.

With determination, I began to undo the wrap from my face. In the process, my long raven hair cascaded down my shoulders like a waterfall.

I heard his intake of breath. His golden eyes widened on my form. "Like I said, Battousai. You know me. I'm Kaoru Kamiya and I'm your opponent."


	2. 1

The Kamiya Kasshin Ryu was a type of sword style that protects life. Instead of being used as an art of killing, the style was an art of disabling an opponent, sometimes rendering him/her useless for life. As a samurai, the swordsman style went against the code of living and dying by the sword. For this main reason, the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu was seen as pointless besides defying the samurai's role. The style was convinced to be a mockery of samurais and therefore was cast aside in Kyoto. Around this time, the Bakumatsu was rearing its ugly head in the streets. People were dying and the Kamiya family moved their businesses and assets to another place that would take them in; another place where no one heard of the Kamiya name.

And for a year with establishing businesses in the Edo district, things were peaceful. Or at least things appeared peaceful in Edo streets. Within the Kamiya dojo walls was a different matter. The Kamiya family carried a dark secret that shook the foundations of normalcy. Every generation of the Kamiya line was granted with an extraordinary talent to control the elements of nature. Usually, the heir of each generation was a boy who carried such a unique gift and whom was capable of passing the Kamiya name to the next family line. However, Koshijiro Kamiya was angered that he had three daughters. The family name would end the moment they married and women were seen as weaklings compared to men in fighting skills.

Unfortunately, one of the daughters in the family had to make the ultimate sacrifice; not to fall in love, not to wed, and not to have a family. Out of the three daughters, this was where my role became significant. Being the middle daughter of three girls, I, Kaoru Kamiya, was picked to have no life. With this in mind, my life became a permanent hell. There was a reason I never fancied kimonos, ogled over guys, never set foot in the kitchen to cook food and never associated myself with other girls my age. I was too busy busting my ass with training the moment the sun rose to when the sun set. The only freedom I received was taking care of my little sister, Tsubame Kamiya. It was the only womanly or motherly experience I had that could be considered feminine. My father thought such trivialities should be left in my older sister's care, Yumi Kamiya. She was taught to take care of the household, how to dress, how to act like a lady and was given an education with knowing the arts of keeping men entertained. She was the first one to be of marriageable age and with her beauty, many suitors lined up in front of our dojo to gift her with compliments or items.

However, my father was stern with how we associated with men. Although he ran a dojo as a side business to earn money, he kept the females away from prying eyes. After all, our mystical abilities was something anyone would kill to possess. If anyone from the public discovered the dangerous secret we harbored, ninja clans, warlords or the government officials would be slamming down our doors. The thought of someone using me, simply for my powers was terrifying. My father was already my worst nightmare in the making. At the age of four, I was already wielding an actual sword. My father either made me practiced two hundred strokes a day or he would beat me to a bloody pulp. At the age of five, we changed places. Edo became our home and my father purchased a dojo with the true intent to continue our rigorous training. However, he had to establish a swordsman style for the dojo he purchased because our neighbors found it was suspicious of him to buy a dojo without using it as a school. My father quickly redefined the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu, declaring it was a swordsmanship to save lives. Groups of young men signed up to learn such a style so they could be drafted into a revolution, hoping to make a difference. The name Hitokiri Battousai was erupting from people's mouths. His name brought fear and admiration to men who wanted to be like him. But for me, Hitokiri Battousai wasn't just name to be revered. I wanted to be strong like him, to tear down my foes with a clean swipe of my sword and not have their faces mocking me in my dreams.

Sometimes I wondered if my father was relentless with my training because he wanted to send me away in war. Or he despised me for being a female. At the age of seven, he and I traveled to Kyoto on foot. The Bakumatsu was nearly ending, the bloodshed was dispersing on the roads. My father left me alone in one of the Kyoto districts to find my way home. It was the hardest training I had to endure in my life. The fact I didn't carried a sword and I was a child saved my life countless times, but those bloody days would forever scar my heart. In that time, I met a young boy with soul full blue eyes, black matted hair and a sweet smile plastered on his lips. He was abused and malnourished. His family took sick pleasure in making him do degrading things for food, to only snatch it and throw it at the dogs. He had to fight for the remains and whatever he got, he shared half of it with me. His family never discovered about me. He kept me hidden from prying eyes under the floorboards of his rundown room.

He didn't tell me his name nor did I bother to tell him mine. All he knew was I had to return home and he was all too happy to depart from his. After all, he was unwanted and unloved. The boy with the shining blue eyes, midnight hair, dressed in haggard, torn clothing, sporting bruises and welts still followed me in the unknown streets of Kyoto. It was only one incident that changed my life forever. The one night that someone outside my family discovered my gift. I didn't know I possessed it until it was too late to stop my actions. There was a gory sight of men dropping to the floor. Blood was raining from the sky while fire licked endlessly at their corpses. One man shrouded in darkness, brutally attacked the men. His lips twisting into a smirk while red stained his sword. I remembered I grabbed the boy's hand at my side and I pushed us against the wall. I put a finger to his lips as a warning to remain silent. I peeked around the edge of the wall to see if more men were dying when I noticed the boy's body stiffening from next to me. A harsh gasp left his mouth and I turned to feel a something sharp and cold pressed against my neck. The male silhouette towered over the both us and I intertwined my fingers in the boy's, praying that this moment wouldn't be our last. Suddenly, a building exploded from behind him. The fires ate at his skin, a grunt left his tall frame as he fell on top of us. His heavy weight crushed the little air I had left and I squeezed the hand tighter that was loosening from my hold. I had to save the boy's life. If anyone deserved to live, it was him. But I was only a seven year old girl who could thrust a sword up and down and dodge fists coming in my direction. I had no other skill to save his life. As the flames surrounded us and breathing became harsher, I heard his heavy breaths turning shallow. His hand was going limp and some strange feeling responded to my sheer desperation to save him. Lava ran through my bloodstream and with a burst of abnormal strength for a child, I pushed the big figure from on top of us to the side. The fire already burned his skin, I could see his muscles and tissue oozing. The boy's skin was getting scorched and I felt some unknown gust of wind gathered around me. 'I want the flames to disappear,' I thought. 'I want to be strong to protect him.' The wind blew around my form, pushing at my hair, and curving around my fingers. I moved my fingers and the wind caressed each finger tip. Experimentally, I waved my hand in the air and the wind responded by blowing against the fire, strong enough to divert it from harming the boy. That's when I looked down at my hands like they were foreign. The blowing air responded and died with a whim. I knelt next to the boy, shaking him, watching him with tearful eyes. I was looking at his mouth, to see if his lips would twitch into an innocent smile. Then I averted my gaze to his eyes to see if he would open them for me.

Instead, I heard a shuffle, a wheezing of air, and I fell against the wall in sudden fear that the shadowed man was going to kill us. Instead, he warily raised himself on his feet, gathered the limp boy's form into his arms. I heard quick intake of breaths as he stumbled on his feet. Glancing my direction, his rough voice called to me. "Are you going to stand there all night, girl?" Somehow his voice remained in perfect condition despite his body being physically damage to a point I could see his insides. But he was standing wearily on his feet, moving away from the fire. Somehow I knew he was like me; he had a gift of his own that made him appear inhuman. If he could survive a fire ravaging at his skin and roam around with injuries, what else could he do?

And from that night, I wandered and rested at his side. I learned the burnt man's name was Shishio Makoto. And I wondered if he was like the Battousai I heard of; an assassin. Battousai might be similar to us; he had to possess an extraordinary gift to carve a pathway to a peaceful era.

Somehow I shook my head at the possibility. Yet at the same time of melting away from the bloody events of the unfortunate Kyoto district, I could have sworn I saw glowing golden eyes looking at us with blooding flowing around him. The lean silhouette was following from the shadows to disappear when a whistle blew in the distance, alerting strangers of our existence. Long fingers curled around my wrist and with a surge of force, crushed my wrist bone and dragged me after him. The boy was thrown over his shoulder, almost sagging at the bumping of feet across the harsh ground.

Another whistle blew and the flowing blood vanished completely from sight. "Damn it!" the burnt man growled. "The Shinsengumi are here." With a sudden tug of my hand, I fell into his body. "If it was just me, I would have escaped but I have the two of you." Deftly, he raised a hand to my throat and squeezed hard enough until was I panting for air. My body sagged against his and he lifted me with ease, only grunting before I joined the boy.

But it wasn't the end of our journey. We made local stops to places he knew. They held healing supplies, a place to lay our heads and edible food. The boy, who I became protective of, awakened to be startled by the burnt man's appearance. He held some bandages to me and commanded that I wrap them around his body. Hesitating in fear and uncertainty of how to use bandages since my mother was the one to wrap them around my wounds, the boy took them and showed me how to do it. In return, I gave him a half portion of my food because of what his family did to him.

From our short conversations, I learned the boy's name was Soujiro Seta. He was usually a quiet one who did as he was told all while smiling. He was incredibly helpful and patient with teaching me do simple chores such as how to make a bed, boil rice, wrap a wound in bandages and to walk quietly on the balls of my feet instead of putting all my weight on my heels. To thank him for teaching me simple things, I taught him how to read and to write from the books we picked up on our journey from Kyoto to Edo. Being literate was something my mother demanded from my father that I learn because the males from my family were considered to be intelligent as well as expert with their gifts. It was their intelligence and resolve that kept our family alive for so long.

Which was how Shsishio discovered more about me from the stirrings of a conversation.

"So how did a little girl like you end up wandering in Kyoto streets on a bloody night?" the burnt man asked me. The boy traveling at his side glanced at me with curiosity sparkling in his blue eyes.

"My father left me," I simply said with a shrug of my shoulders.

"That's hard to believe. Why would your father leave a defenseless child in a dangerous place?" The man shook his head as if my parents were insane. I would agree with him about my father having a loose screw but not my mother. She was against the idea of me traveling to Kyoto with the sole purpose to train. My father digested her words like a grain of salt and now they were waiting for me return home.

"He said it was training," I answered.

There was a strange flash in the dark man's eyes as his bloodless lips twisted into a half of smile. "Was your training to blow away the fire that almost devoured us?"

I glanced up at him strangely, recalling the way the air seemed to bent to my will. I tilted my head as if in thought and then I shook my head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play coy with me, little girl," he roared with laughter. "Your parents train you well with keeping secrets."

I shook my head again. "I don't know what you mean."

"Let's not worry about that." Craning his neck to see the boy lagging behind, the smile spread across his face. "There's no reason to dull the mood. You have an infinite gift to be light on your feet. With a sword and your swiftness, you may someday have enough skill to surpass Battousai."

"You know Battousai?" I suddenly asked him, stilling in shock.

"Know him. I was his predecessor for the Ishin Shishi."

My mouth dropped open and my eyes widened at the man in front of me. Dressed in a dark gray gi and a black hakama, with bandages wrapped around his lithe body, he would appear as a bystander for the war. Instead he was a member of the Ishin Shishi (fighting for a new way of life) and they were fighting against the Shinsengumi, who believed Japan should remain the same.

"Looks like the cat caught its tongue."

A weird expression must have marred my face because his chest rumbled with laughter. Soujiro looked at the both of us with a perplexed face before he shrugged his shoulders and began walking. I followed after him.

"Then it's settled. We will go to your home in Edo." I stopped and whirled around him.

"I don't think my dad will like that."

"What? Bringing strangers into your home? He will welcome us when he sees you're alive and well."

I didn't know what to say him so I kept silent as we continued our travel to Edo.

From the many weary days of travelling on foot, I never thought the sight of a bridge with water flowing calmly under it would be the first sight to greet me home. Then, a sudden apprehension build within me at the thought of having uninvited guests staying at the dojo. The tall man wrapped in bandages knew more about me then I knew of him. It could be our age difference or the keen way his eyes observed everything while keeping silent that made him unpredictable. Whenever he opened those bloodless lips, sensible words appeared and it seemed like Soujiro and I had no choice to but to listen and obey him. His power over us was frightening.

So imagine the fear that permitted the area of the dojo when my father opened the dojo doors, an unsheathed sword in one hand and his fingers splaying around the hilt of a smaller sword at his hip. The sight of the burnt man must have shocked him senseless because it was my mother's hastiness that had the boy and the man inside the safety net of the dojo halls with bandages, hot food and water. She took care of me while my older sister carefully tended to the bandaged man. Soujiro was the only one who remained untouched. To console him, I held his hand and smiled at him. 'You won't be alone,' I mentally promised. As if he heard my declaration, the wistful smile lightened his facial features and he squeezed my fingers.

'I have to become stronger,' I thought as my goal.

Thus, when my dad demanded the intruders were to leave at the first light of the sun, the burnt man picked up one of the many swords that were stored on the shelves in the dojo.

"We will leave if you can defeat me," Shishio stated with a calm voice. His face revealed no emotion as he glided into the middle of the room.

"No!" my older sister screamed. Turning to face the bandaged man, she gazed at him with dark defiant eyes. "You can't fight in your current condition."

"Why not?" Shishio replied with a stoic expression. Only black eyes glinted with heat as he stared challengingly at my sister, seeing if she would back down.

She stayed still. Her hands moving on her hips. My mouth dropped opened while Soujiro sat up straighter in his seat, his interest peaked.

"If you are capable of fighting, then my father has every right to toss you and that little brat on the streets," Yumi's voice threatened. "But if you are incapable of fighting, then you can stay here until you are fully healed."

The burnt man shook his head and then tilted his head back as his laughter roared through the dojo's walls. Completely taken aback by his sudden amusement, Yumi shifted away from him. "Your little sister wanders the bloody streets of Kyoto when men, women and children are being murdered. She returns home with someone who saves her life and this is how you treat me. What happened to hospitality?" He turned to face the lord of the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu. "Or does your daughter have little value to you?"

My dad never expected someone talk back at him. He struggled with words before he retorted, "Who the hell do you think you are to make accusations in my home? If I command you to get out, then move out."

"If I go, both children will go with me," Shishio declared with a hint of mockery. "Or are you scared that an injured man will win you and you have no choice but to entertain us as guests until I deem it fit to leave?"

"If I win, you and that insufferable bastard will leave permanently," my dad accused. I stilled because I didn't see it happen. My older sister fell to the ground because she had never seen the burnt man move. One second he was standing in the middle of the dojo with a sword still in its sheathe. The next second, the unsheathe sword, glimmering silver in the candle light was poised at my father's neck.

I was up on my feet, dashing between both males. My hands outstretched from side to side as if I could shield my father with my little body. I raised my head and stared at the monster before me. Although my arms were shaking and my knees were wobbly, I never looked away from the dark eyes of a predator. In that instant, I believed in his words when he said he was associated with Battousai. This man was as terrifying as the legendary assassin in the beautiful way he held the naked blade at my father's throat. Killer intent marked in his stance. I wanted to be like him but the person who could teach me to be strong was the person he deemed as a threat.

"No! Please don't kill him!" I found myself begging.

I stood there what seemed like forever. The burnt man eyes shifted from me to my dad until he slowly lowered his sword. I collapsed to my knees. Yumi ran to hug me. "Your daughter saved you. Surely you must see what makes her special." It was the way in which he said the word special that caused my older sister and I to shiver in fear. He appeared to know the truth my father tried so long to conceal. "The duel is over and I win. We will be staying here for as long as we like."

My father didn't take the command well but he had to live by the burnt man's words. He sensed the same thing I sensed when I first met the burnt man. Anyone to cross his blade would end up dead. So we had no choice but to accommodate the burnt swordsman in our home. He had his private bedroom, meals were prepared to his liking, and my sister became his personal maid. My parents were upset as to how much time he spent with Yumi. He deliberately forced her to change his bandages every two hours, to feed him, to set out his clothing and dress him. Yumi stayed up late hours of the night telling him stories or singing to him only to get up early in the morning to do everything again.

My father realized that he couldn't save her the humiliation of being a personal slave. Instead, he took out his frustrations on my training. He never showed me moves. He expected me to learn them from memories when he tackled me or swept me off from my feet to land on rear or on my back on the dirty wooden floor. Sometimes his frustration reached a point where he left me alone to do a thousand strokes.

And then one year later, with the mighty end of the Bakumastu, the day came when the bandaged man decided to abscond from the dojo, only he wasn't leaving empty handed. The boy I had come to view as my best friend chose to go with him. Shockingly, my older sister was in turmoil about his sudden wanted departure. Our mother had fallen ill and Tsubame was learning the meaning of being lonely. I didn't know when Yumi had a change of heart toward the bandaged swordsman but her confessed love truly astonished us to the point that she was at the main dojo gates with him, a bag swung over her shoulder and dressed in her feathery yellow kimono fit for traveling long distances.

I recalled the tears staining my cheeks as I held little Tsubame in my arms. My little sister's chubby legs wrapped around my hips while her small arms wrapped around my neck. The moisture against the crook of my neck were tell tale signs of tears for our sister's departure. Yumi looked at dad with a face of indifference before turning to us. Her lovely face softened at our display of sadness and she walked right up to us with the burnt man, and my best friend followed after her.

Her beauty glowed delicately like the moon as she stopped in front of us. I had to look away. Her soft hands on my cheeks forced me to gaze into her dark eyes and a voice as sweet as a flute whispered for Tsubame and me to hear, "No matter what happens, we will always be sisters." And with a certainty in her tone, she assured me, "And I promise we will meet again. Until then, promise me both of you will be good girls."

Absently, I nodded my head. I could never deny Yumi's requests. Our little sister whimpered against my throat but it was acclimation that she understood.

"Kaoru," she said my name slowly, with apparent sadness marring her dark eyes. "Please take care of our little sister. With mom being sick, Tsubame will be needing you more then ever."

I wanted to ask her why couldn't she stay with us; her family. Weren't we good enough for her? Instead I nodded. With a brief smile lightening the lovely features on her face, she stepped back for Shishio to take her place. Awkwardly he reached around the small child wrapped in my arms to place his large and heated hands on my shoulders. With an eeriness shadowing his form, he pierced with me with a knowing look.

"I will have need for you in the future," his dark voice said. The steel in which he spoke sent tremors of fear down my spine. I felt how Tsubame clutched me tighter in fright. Her slight action caused me to stand taller and bravely return the man's unnerving stare. His smile spread wider on his face, a menace glinting in his black eyes. "There's a strong spirit in you that will make you an excellent warrior. Train hard, get stronger and I can promise your reunion with your older sister and Soujiro."

I raised my chin to challenge him. He tossed his head back and his chest rumbled with laughter. "Until our next meeting, little girl."

He stepped away from me, turning his back to me so that I could only look at Soujiro. Instantly, I noticed how one year changed his appearance. His inky black hair shown healthiness. His blue eyes twinkled with mirth as his pale lips rose with a gentleness that caused water to leak from my eyes. "Do you have to go?" I asked with a cracked tone.

"Yes," he revealed to me. He put his hand on my sister's brunette hair and patted the soft tresses. He averted his gaze to her before looking at me. "Take care of each other."

I could only nod my head.

He retreated and I found myself moving forward. Then he faced away so his back was to me. "We will meet again. Wait for me."

"I will."

And they were gone. They simply vanished without a trace. Days turned into months. Within the eleventh month of their departure, mom passed away saying that her final hopes died the day Yumi left our family. Dad wallowed in depression and spent more time teaching kendo classes, vigorously training me, and redefining a style that would suit wielding my gift. However, my little sister's sickness changed his heart as he came close to losing her as we did with mom. When the winter's month closed the year of Yumi's departure, father let go many of the servants tending our estate. Reluctantly, he gave Tsubame to Ms. Tae's care in fear of losing her. Ms. Tae became Tsubame's guardian and the caretaker of Akabeko, our family's restaurant, until Tsubame reached the proper age to run the restaurant herself. With one less addition in the immediate family, my father and I were the only ones left in the Kamiya estate. That meant my father spent many years training me with the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu that he developed for me. This sword style became known as the sword that protects. With every defensive gesture, my gift was meant to deflect my opponent moves. With offensive attacks to the joints, I crippled my opponent while my gift drew them closer and kept my opponent within reach.

I learned I had many advantages on the battlefield being a gifted Kamiya like my ancestors before me. However, my biggest disadvantage was one my father never successfully trained me for. I never learned how to fight against a foe that excelled in discerning ki's. For warriors who knew how to read ki's, they would be able to detect the unnatural wave lengths in my ki, leaving me vulnerable with surprise attacks.

So it came to me as a shocker that I had to face a foe that was adept in distinguishing ki's; acting on my greatest weakness. Another war had men drafted to fight in it. My father, being the only male left in the Kamiya family, had enrolled, giving me no choice but to fend for myself in the dojo estate. At this time, all the servants had left the dojo. His departure left me with a heavy heart, realizing that all the people I immensely cared for left me alone. Tsubame was the only family member I had left but to protect her happiness, I kept my distance from Akabeko.

One night, under a full moon, I was locking the main dojo gates when I felt a heavy ki pressing against my body. I didn't have time to summon my own ki to use my gift as my knees gave away. I slumped against the soiled ground as a slender figure hovered over me. From the poor light of the moon, I could only make out short dark hair, wide glittery eyes and a half smirk ensuing on a stranger's face. The figure simply accosted me but with his every footstep, I gritted my teeth as a heavy mass of ki impeded my need to breathe.

"Kaoru," a light voice said and I felt my whole world shattered. Air was allowed in my thirsted lungs as I looked helplessly at the person I thought I would never see again. How many years have passed since Yumi and Soujiro walked away with a unpredictable and lethal swordsman?

"Soujiro," I breathed his name. All of sudden he embraced me, pulling me into his hard form. One hand was buried in the thick mass of my hair so that his hand cradled the back of my head. The other hand was rubbing up and down my small back. "Soujiro," I called to him after some time being in his arms. I partially could not believe my best friend had returned to me.

"Yes," he replied as he pulled back. I saw the blue glimmer in his eyes and I felt moisture obscuring my vision.

"Why are you here?"

"I said we will meet again."

I pushed against his chest, feeling his arms slipped away from me. Struggling to stand up, I put myself at a distance so I could think with a clear head. "I know, but why now?"

"Because, it's time for everything to fall into place." His smirk turned into a full blown smile that caused my breath to hitch. Even in the moonlight, I could see how good the years have been for him. He seemed to radiate power, confidence and grace for one who stood so still.

"Huh?"

"Master Shishio and Lady Yumi need your assistance." Master Shishio did warn me about needing me in the future and I did spend all my time enduring killing exercises with a sword or bokken to get stronger.

Tilting my head to the side, I lowered my lashes. "What can I do for Master Shishio and my dear sister."

If possible, Soujiro smiled wider. "They want me to help prepare your encounter with Battousai."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think of the first chapter? This beginning is to really explain how Kaoru came to be the one in her family to learn the secret art behind the Kamiya Kasshin Ryu.


End file.
